The Witch’s Destiny

by Emma Glass

  “Are you finished yet?” Kinsey snorted at him. “I want to see if I can win the shirt off your back.”

  Wilhelm grinned. “Want to get me out of my shirt?”

  Asarra stopped pretending to cry and glared at him. Of all the things that I enjoyed in this world besides Elliott… taking a backseat to the convoluted relationship between Wilhelm and Asarra was probably my favourite. While he had been a massive flirt with her from the start, she was never openly willing to meet his affection halfway. Hell, if anything, she acted like the jovial Wilhelm Nettleshire was the most frustrating thing about her life.

  But, judging by that simmering look…

  “Oh. Um. I mean, what use would you, uh, have for…”

  “I don’t need your shirt,” Kinsey retorted. “I just want you to not have it. Your boots, too. That will automatically fail you on the royal guard dress code. Then I can boot you out of the castle for a day. That’s the rule, after all.”

  “None of us are royal guards anymore! Not even you!”

  “Rules are rules,” Kinsey chuckled, shuffling the cards. “Now are you playing, or are you playing?”

  Wilhelm threw his hands up in disgust. “What? I mean, what does that even mean?”

  It was curious to finally see Elliott’s antagonistic charge finally break out of her shell for a while. I was always used to seeing Kinsey annoyed or apathetic, at least those times that we did cross paths…

  Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last.

  * * *

  The door to the private suite flew open and Elliott Craven stormed into the den with a bitter expression over his face; the guards quickly tabled their game of cards, watching as he paced back and forth across the suite.

  “Elliott?” I stepped in from the balcony. “What is it?”

  He paused, taking a deep breath. “The chrysm network remains offline. The attendants beneath this castle have no protocol to follow. They cannot even explain the readings. Which presents a number of problems…”

  I ushered him over to a chair and motioned him to take a seat. When he sat down, I started rubbing his shoulders. “What does this mean?”

  The guards rose from the dining table but stayed back.

  “Chrysm is delicate. Volatile. Handled improperly, the entire chrysm hub could explode.”

  “You mean, the whole castle, then.” Viktor replied.

  Elliott glanced up. “What?”

  “Everything’s connected to the chrysm.”

  He waved the thought away. “Yes. I know. That means that this entire stronghold could become a deathtrap. Hell, it might already be one… which, conveniently enough, is a perfect segue into problem number two.”

  “Relax, Elliott,” I whispered soothingly.

  He slowly lowered them with a heavy sigh. “The nodes were one problem. But it appears the entire portal network is down as well. While I was caught up in the problems of maneuvering around my castle… what has now effectively happened is that the entirety of the council is trapped here with us on the Isle of Obsidian.”

  Wilhelm muttered. “Well, that’s fantastic.”

  “No. It gets worse,” Elliott grunted. “None of the other vampire lords can return to their lairs to ensure the safety of their own castles. Which means that the realm’s supply of refined chrysm—every drop of it—could be ready to blow right this second. Or, it’s a mere isolated incidence, due to our proximity to Seven Portals. No way to tell right now.”

  I massaged harder, really putting my back into it. “So, I hear a lot of pretty awful possibilities. What else?”

  “What else?” The vampire sighed. “Without the chrysm network active, a single-second trip becomes an entire day. There is no suitable avenue to reach Seven Portals without us packing up and crossing the sea, then taking horses on a joyride across the Far Reaches. A few problems with that approach—there is no way to call forward for our mounts, we don’t have an active ferryman to take us across the sea, and even if we did?” He covered his forehead with a hand, rubbing his temples. “Unless we just left them behind—in my castle, unattended—we would be stuck with the whole council for each and every bloody step of the way…”

  I kissed his head. He seemed to relax.

  “If it’s any consolation…” Wilhelm started.

  He tensed again. “Oh boy. This ought to be good.”

  “I, uh, might know how to ferry a ship.”

  He glanced up. “You’re joking.”

  The other guards looked at him incredulously. Kinsey’s eyes narrowed… only to slowly widen. “You didn’t.”

  Wilhelm quickly looked apologetic to have spoken up. “We, uh, in our little training academy to be, you know, castle guards…well, you know we take the usual weapons training, marching drills, and so on… all the fun stuff…”

  “Don’t forget the brain surgery,” Kinsey helpfully said.

  “Like I said—all the fun stuff…”

  Elliott wearily muttered: “You test my patience.”

  He swallowed. “Well to, um, promote diverse skill-sets and so on, just in case of a, ah, deficit in capabilities… it is somewhat heavily encouraged by our leaders that we choose an, uh, ‘elective’ beyond the typical... training…”

  Viktor started to laugh.

  It began as a tiny chuckle way down in his lungs, but I listened as it slowly worked its way up into the heartiest roar of laughter. I’ve never seen him laugh like that.

  Asarra sighed. “And you picked…”

  “Ferrying,” Wilhelm answered quietly.

  Elliott looked dumbfounded. “Wilhelm, are you telling me that you underwent royal guard training to ferry a boat? ...Why? Why would you have taken lessons to learn that? Why would anyone take lessons to learn it? We have active teleportation on this very island!”

  Viktor laughed even harder than before. “A ferry! All these years, and you can drive a bloody ferry!”

  “I like ferries, okay?!” He argued. “They’re soothing!”

  Kinsey and Asarra shook their heads. I wasn’t entirely sure what the big deal was—but the more that I thought about it, the more I realized just how ridiculous the mental picture of a vampire piloting a ferry really was. Especially if it was Wilhelm behind the helm.

  “Okay,” Elliott sighed, after all the laughter died down. “So, we have a boat, I suppose. But there are other issues at hand. Issues that can explode…”

  The merriment fading off of his face, Viktor frowned in contemplation. “What can be done about the chrysm? Did you send Lord Lovrić to check on the chrysm hub?”

  Elliott nodded distantly. “Though it breaks our taboos, yes. Svetlana is down there with them now. It did not look particularly promising. I’m not convinced there is honestly anything she can do.”

  “Why not? Didn’t she invent those?” Wilhelm asked.

  “The sky has exploded with chrysm blight, unless you haven’t thought to look out a window. Did you pay attention to the colour of the light? Just because Lord Lovrić herself invented the machines doesn’t mean that she can reverse the chaos—especially when we’re all certain that the sky itself has something to do with it.”

  Wilhelm sheepishly grinned. “Point taken.”

  He rose out of the chair, storming out onto the balcony. I followed him out there, gaining sympathetic looks from the others; even Kinsey looked glum.

  “I don’t get it,” he grunted. “I don’t understand.”

  “What don’t you understand?”

  “This is all happening for a reason. I know it is.”

  “The chrysm?” I looked up. “Thought that was clear.”

  “No. Sabine told us the Calamity would fall with your return. But it hasn’t. You’re here. And it’s still there—just hanging in the balance. Threatening to drop on us all. And the storm is focused on Seven Portals.”

  “Maybe it falls when I return to Seven Portals.”

  “If her game is to draw you there, why would she seek to obstruct our progress? What
does she stand to gain by forcing us to take the long way across the hold?”

  “Maybe she was buying time?”

  “No. It doesn’t fit. If Sabine needs you at the academy, I can’t imagine she would do anything to jeopardize that. There are wild lands between Stonehold castle and Seven Portals. Danger lucks in the darkness of the woods. There must to be a reason she needs you to risk that journey—and a way for you to arrive unharmed.”

  My shoulders sank. “The chrysm portals…”

  “Yes… what about them, Clara?”

  “You said earlier… that the vampire lords…”

  Elliott watched me carefully, unwilling to say anything that might break my train of thought. But that expression I saw in his eyes meant I had his undivided attention.

  “You said that they’re trapped here. Didn’t you?”

  “They have no way of returning to their home castles if the network is down, no. Not without trekking the world by foot. What are you…?”

  “That must be it then. She wants us traveling together.”

  Elliott bent forwards, searching my gaze for a moment. With his eyes so close to mine, I watched how that brilliant mind of his spun its cogs into dust…

  “I think you’re right,” he finally replied. “Sabine wants the entire council to escort you to the mainland. By turning off the chrysm with all of us here, it guarantees it. Earlier, I was only joking—but we really do have to have the rest of the vampire lords along the way…”

  “Then it really is a trap.”

  Elliott looked defeated. “Yes.”

  “We have to tell the others. They need to know.”

  “Oh, I’m sure as soon as we mention it, they’ll figure it out. Morons don’t get seats at the world’s stage. This begs the question of what to do from there…”

  I glanced towards the mainland. “We can’t leave them. The Arch-Magister is there. My instructor is there. Some of our friends are still there. We haven’t heard anything from them since they left…”

  “No. But anything could be happening.”

  “Or nothing. It could be safe.”

  Elliott pointed at the storm. “That speaks for itself.”

  I walked up before him; I tenderly placed my hands to his arms, where they socketed into his broad shoulders. As I studied his face, his discouraged stare held across the sea. I felt how he yearned for them; I sensed a tortured soul in his chest, and the magnitude of his horror and terror.

  His face turned at my fingertips. I whispered: “Elliott.”

  “Yes, my darling?” His voice sounded distant.

  “Whatever’s happening to this world… we can’t stop it from here.”

  “I know,” he murmured softly. “But I can’t lose you.”

  “You won’t,” I lied with a smile.

  “We both know that I might. Or you might lose me. We are going into this blind, Clara. There’s no telling what lay waiting for us across the Far Reaches.”

  “All the more to embrace destiny. We have no choice.”

  “She will see us coming from miles away.”

  Supportively, I stroked his cheek with my palm; Elliott softly pushed into my touch. “She will,” I conceded. “But if this is a trap, and Sabine really does need us… that gives us some bargaining power, does it not?”

  In a snap, Elliott’s eyes suddenly lit up.

  “I know that look,” I grinned. “What is it, love?”

  He took my palm in his hand, kissing me hard against the lips. The familiar crackle of magic shot throughout my body; this time, a little stronger than ever. I knew he could feel it, too, judging by the way his spine slightly arced.

  When he pulled back, I inquisitively watched his eyes. “Are you going to unveil the surprise, or…?”

  The lord of the castle smirked. “In one hour, we need to be making our way to the mainland. We can take the ferry. There’s a long day of travel ahead—to make good time, we will need to be gone soon. But, first things first—I’ll have to track down that rebellious sister of mine…”

  “Playing things close to the chest?”

  Elliott gave me a nod. “I always do.”

  He reached his hand to mine and bent his back, taking a knee for me.

  “Beats chrysm travel,” I cheerily climbed onto his back. “You know I love taking the scenic route.”

  “You’d better hold on tight, then.”

  “You’d better hold on tight, then.” With that, my Elliott held his arm to secure me, plunging from the balcony—his boots already racing us down the side of the keep…

  Chapter 8

  A Boy

  At first, he thought that he was seeing things. Truth be told, it wasn’t hard to imagine why. The whole of the world was soaked in red light; everything was drenched in quivering darkness and blood shadows. The sky was a a raging fire, frozen into place. It was easily the most malevolent painting the universe could find.

  It was too much for a young boy to understand.

  The thick fog trailed over the water in every direction, forming a curtain that hung beneath the scorched skies above. The boy stood up from the edge of the dock, where he was slacking off on his work.

  “F-Father?” He called out.

  There wasn’t an answer. The boy felt alone.

  “A-Are you there, Father?”

  The distant sound of clanging reached him, barely. The boy knew he had to turn and find him—but he realized he was glued to the spot in blind terror and fascination.

  The fog had begun to part. There was no mistaking it. A steadfast ship pushed out through the swirling mist; an old vessel, the kind that rarely found their way across the sea. The ship sought the bridge, but the fog was too thick. It wouldn’t find it in time.

  The ship drew closer. And a loud horn sounded.

  Startled into action, the young boy turned away, his bare feet taking him across the boards of the bridge. At his back, the ship collided with the bridge and began to tear it apart in each coming meter. Planks ripped apart and flung up into the air, scattering to either side in the water as he ran his hardest.

  “Father!” The boy shouted. “Help!”

  But his father did not hear him. The bridge splintering at his heels, he hadn’t developed the natural speed that came as a vampire matured. After a few more steps, he felt the planks under his feet flinging apart.

  “FATHER!” He was in the air now, thrown towards the water as the ship slowed against the disintegrating bridge. He knew how to swim, but he was afraid of the things that lived in the sea—things that would be drawn to the sound of the commotion. He flailed for anything to grab as he feared the icy touch of the freezing water below…

  A powerful hand clasped him at the wrist.

  Dangling from the grip, the boy kicked his feet against the side of the ship, finally stopping to stare into the face of the man who saved him. Without any visible effort, the man pulled the boy onto the ship and out of danger.

  The ship shuddered to a stop and the man dropped to his knee, staring the boy at eye-level with a glowing gaze. The boy knew he would never forget those eyes. It was the kind of stare that you read about in stories—the kind that looked deep into you in a blink, and the kind you couldn’t hide your secrets from.

  “Are you okay?” The man asked kindly.

  The boy nodded slowly.

  “What is your name?”

  “…I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

  The man laughed, his eyes softening. “Very well then… My name is Elliott. I came from over there.” He pointed at the deepest part of the fog. “Do you live here?”

  The boy nodded again.

  “Good. Sorry about the bridge. Wilhelm is quite the liar when it comes to his… talents.”

  Others were coming from below decks.

  “Well, whoever you are, I should take you back to solid ground. Can you hold onto me for a moment?”

  At his provocation, the boy clamoured onto his back.

  “Hold
on tight.”

  The boy nodded.

  After a brief running start, the man’s boot pressed into the banister and cracked it—just as his ship had torn the bridge apart. In one swift motion, he leapt, agile as a bird.

  The boy clung tightly as the man carried him across the shattered path; they landed just past the few untouched planks. After the boy climbed down, the man rose again to his feet and studied the destruction. He sighed.

  “I’ll be right back. I need to check on my… friends.”

  The man dove back the way that he came—landing on the ship hard enough to rock it in the water. While the boy watched, the sounds of cracking wood came from the boat.

  “What is happening… Killen?”

  The boy recognized the voice of his father, running up and wiping sweat from his face with a rag. “What are you doing out here? And this… what…?”

  Killen liked his father sometimes. He was a stern man. He owned this land, right at the edge of the sea. When the boy was on his best behaviour, his father would treat him. He’d take Killen out fishing in the sea for a long weekend. Even if it scared him, Killen quite liked going out to sea.

  His father stared incredulously at the broken planks. It wasn’t long before his gaze drifted to the marooned ship.

  “Who is responsible for…”

  And then a long, hard slab of wood fell down in an arc, slamming down on the nearest planks. The sound of fresh cracks rang out in the air, and the bridge shuddered.

  “…Really?” The man’s voice called out.

  Another voice now: “I got us here, didn’t I?”

  “Wilhelm, the next time I need to cross the sea… you’re going on the bottom of the boat.”

  “Below deck?” The voice replied. “It reeks!”

  “Close, but no. Think further down.”

  “…Oh.”

  The boy’s father held out his arm. “Stay back, Killen…” He grunted out the order.

  “That man saved me,” the boy pointed.

  “What? Which man?”

  He pointed harder. “That one.”

  Down from the fog came the man—his arm around the shoulders of the prettiest woman Killen had ever seen. The pair strolled down the board, with a small group of people behind them that looked increasingly bizarre.